


An Early Morning

by Monkess



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:32:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkess/pseuds/Monkess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumplestiltskin is a restless sleeper</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Early Morning

Waking up, Rumplestiltskin suffered two seconds on confusion as to his whereabouts. In magical lands like the Enchanted Forest, or Neverland, he had never needed sleep, merely magicking or wishing his need to sleep away, and before that, in Storybrook, he had never needed barely more than three hours of rest, six if he'd really exerted himself before that. Rumplestiltskin not slept in a bed a while, and waking up in one that felt unfamiliar, the weight of its mattress wrong, the touch of the sheets a little off, in a room he didn't immediately recognize, was slightly alarming, but only for two seconds, until he remembered where he was.

Rumplestiltskin didn't yet glance at the sleeping shape next to him. Instead he listened to her breath rise and fall softly, without urgency, most definitely asleep. He didn't want to wake up Belle yet, although he itched to roll closer to her and wrap his arms around her. He'd missed sleeping next to her, since she'd left his house what felt like an eternity ago, but he also thought he'd rather let Belle sleep a little longer. Just because his sleep was fitful and filled with nightmares didn't mean she should suffer for it. Let Beauty have her rest.

The thin cotton curtains let the faint light in of a slowly arriving winter sunrise that was still only a hint of itself beyond the horizon. By that, he could guess it was sometime between five and six in the morning, not an odd time for him to be awake. An immaterial sense of perfect peacefulness glowed about Belle's bedroom, which he found as intriguing and drawn to as the person who spun such beauty and love all around her life, where ever she went. Rumplestiltskin took a deep breath, as if to take in all of the room's calm and serenity, things which he'd always lacked in his life and in his heart.

He was fairly certain he didn't deserve this, or her.

Then again, it was likely there was no one in the world, in any world, who deserved Belle. And he was in the habit of being selfish, so refusing her invitation to spend the night with her had barely crossed his mind. Also, he couldn't fathom himself ever again denying anything Belle asked of him. This wonderful, wise, brave woman deserved anything and everything she asked of him. Last night it had been a few kisses and for him to hold her close while she fell asleep. Maybe for some it would have been small and meaningless, but Rumplestiltskin would have happily spent the rest of his life with simple pleasures such as those. Whatever Belle wanted, she would have, and he would do his damn best to be a little more deserving of her, impossible though that probably was.

The light of an almost morning illuminated Belle's modest apartment a little, and Rumplestiltskin's eyes wandered across the room. The night before the same eyes had had Belle's undivided attention, but now he considered the simple room and its plain but serviceable contents with a critical eye, doubly uncomfortable, for how a lady such as Belle was living in these conditions, but also because he was strikingly reminded of his less than humble origins.

Rumplestiltskin turned on his side to look at Belle. Her breath caught as the mattress dipped, but then her inhalations and exhalations returned to the same deep pattern as before. He noticed he'd tensed himself, grown very still, and allowed himself to relax back against the bed and the pillow, thinking, wondering, what if Lady Belle in her carriage had travelled through a small peasant village with shepherds and spinners, would she have looked twice at Rumplestiltskin then? What reason would she have had to?

These were too late at night, too early in the morning sort-of thought, he recognized them, and got himself out of bed to flee them, into the chilly draughtiness of the apartment. The place could have used better insulation, it was why Belle slept in a long-sleeved flannel night shirt that reached her down to her knees, rather than the lovely silk nightgown she'd worn in Rumplestiltskin's house at night.

After a brief visit to Belle's adequate but tiny bathroom, the elusive and frail calm peace had left Rumplestiltskin's heart and he thought he shouldn't return to bed to fidget there restlessly while Belle tried to sleep. He closed the door to the bedroom and went to make tea in the tiny kitchenette, but was rather surprised and disappointed that his love seemed to have changed her tastes in hot beverages to instant coffee and cocoa powder.

Bitter coffee it was then.

He drank it from a Storybrook Town Museum promotional mug whilst standing by the window and looking down at the street at the earliest people waking up in the cursed town. Widow Lucas was, unsurprisingly, one of the first to be seen out on the streets, cleaning up the terrace of the diner. The cricket was out and awake early, walking his dog, and stopped to chat with Mrs Lucas.

His coffee finished, Rumplestiltskin moved away from the window and inspected the rest of the tiny apartment. He found what he suspected to be Belle's reading chair, for it was the most comfortable seat in the house, had a reading light on the table next to it, and sitting next to that was a pile of books, Anna Karenina on top of the stack. He frowned a bit at that, his curse memories suggesting it made for very depressing reading.

He was just thinking he should find Belle a happier book to read, when he heard his name spoken softly at the bedroom door.

“Rumple?” Belle repeated, and he looked at her, standing in her long and loose flannel shirt, bare-footed and hair fluffed up from sleep. It reminded him a little of the manner of her departure from his house, the last time she'd gotten out of bed to find him. Just the memory made him freeze like a rabbit in headlights.

Belle crept across the floor, still addled from sleep, and came to place a kiss on his cheek. “Hmm. Stub,” Belle mumbled and lifted her hands up to caress his face with both her palms, grinning suddenly up at him.

Rumplestiltskin's face lit up, simply because she was there, and she seemed happy. He smiled back at her. “Do you want me to shave?”

Belle dropped her hands from his face to grab his arms instead, as she shook her head. “No, but let's go back to bed? It's chilly without you.” She directed his arms around her and leaned closer to him, to wrap her own arms around him and press her face into his neck. “I'd like to have you close until someone comes banging on the door with urgent and dire news,” Belle muttered, her lips delicious against his skin there.

“Judging by past experience, we'll have barely until noon,” Rumplestiltskin replied, and pecked a kiss on Belle's forehead before allowing himself to be led back into bed. The sun began to rise. Holding Belle, occasionally kissing her, being kissed by her in return, the frail and elusive sense of blissful contentment started slowly coming back.

Until there was a knock on the door.


End file.
